


The Race

by aneedleofmyown



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Missing Scene, Sibling Bonding, before everything turned to shit and sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 03:47:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aneedleofmyown/pseuds/aneedleofmyown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little drabble I did for got_exchange's comment fic meme.</p>
<p>Prompt was: "Brothers and sisters are as close as hands and feet." For sweetbitter on LJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Race

“Bran, wait!” Arya called, chasing after her brother as he nimbly made his way up and across the roof of the stables. “Slow down!” Any other time, she'd be able to outrun him easily, but this was different. Her younger brother was so surefooted, even on the narrowest of beams; she doubted she'd ever keep up with him without her feet on the ground.

But that didn't keep her from trying.

* * *

Bran couldn't help but let out an excited yelp as he hopped his way from one roof to another as his sister struggled to match his pace. It was a good thing he was ahead of her; if she saw the smug grin on his face, she'd punch him for certain.

He loved climbing- the feeling that he could go anywhere he wanted, whenever he wanted, and no one could tell him otherwise; the feeling of freedom. He loved seeing the ground a long way down from his feet. He'd never admit it, but sometimes he'd even pretend he could fly. As much as he loved all that, though, it usually meant that he played by himself. Having his big sister along somehow just made it even better.

Truthfully, he liked playing with Arya best of all. Rickon was too young, and the games he played bored Bran. But Robb and Jon were both too old and too big to be walking on the sometimes rickety roofs of the Winterfell courtyard. And Sansa... well, she would have been alright if she weren't such a _girl_.

“I'm going to beat you!” Bran called back over his shoulder, never taking his eyes from the path of his feet.

“You think so?” Arya called back. He could hear that she was out of breath, but he knew not to underestimate the stubbornness in her voice.

Bran quickened his pace in response, but it was no use. While he was always precise in his movements- his footsteps all planned, avoiding the weaker areas of the roof- his sister was not. In a mad, reckless dash, she surged ahead of him, taking a wild leap until she landed hard on the roof of the smithy. She was laughing loudly across the gap, but he ignored her, crouching down to try and hide himself; he knew what was coming next.

“What in blazes are you doing up there?” Mikken hollered as he came to see what had made such a noise above his head. “Arya?”

She stopped laughing at once, shooting a glare toward Bran, who remained well-hidden. “I...”

“I expected this of your brother, little miss, but not from you,” Mikken scolded. “Just you wait until I tell Lady Stark about this, she won't be-”

The blacksmith's words were cut off, though, as Arya let out another laugh and ineptly made her way down from the roof. “No need to tell Mother, Mikken,” she said sweetly, and Bran couldn't help but roll his eyes from his hiding place. “I promise I'll not do it again.” She was all smiles as the man shrewdly considered her words.

“Aye,” he finally said, relaxing. “Make sure that you don't.”

Bran didn't see his sister again until dinner that night. She pinched him under the table and smugly reminded him, “I won.”

“Only because you're stupid,” he muttered, only pouting a little.

Arya merely shrugged at that, her smile undiminished. “I still won.”


End file.
